Waking Death
by Morganeth Taren'drel
Summary: Jack 'awakes' to a fate worse than death, leaving him battling to maintain his sanity. The only thing dying might not bring back.


**AN**: I don't know if this still works given how I'm told the second season ended. But it was an idea that struck my and just wouldn't leave me alone, so I continued working on it and through the encouragement of **lunchboxqueen** I've decided to share it with the rest of you. I hope enjoy

**Disclaimer**: I down own the characters from Torchwood

**Waking Death**

Had he died? It certainly felt like it - his entire body was cold, which wasn't unusual. The fact that he was cold and wet was what sent the panic racing through him. The blackness surrounded him completely, and he couldn't breathe, the pressure crushing his lungs in his chest. But even that didn't matter - there was no oxygen to breathe, trapped under hundreds of feet of water. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the cold truth, and the sight of his open tomb.

Jack Harkness hung suspended: freezing, and not quite alive but unable to fully die. It was the curse of his immortality that he could be trapped between both worlds till the end of time. He wanted to scream, fight his way to the surface, draw breath and escape this nightmare. But he didn't even struggle; he didn't have the strength or control of his limbs. This had happened before, and it had nearly cost him his sanity, the one part of life he could actually lose.

All he could hear was the hollow tone of the rippling water, there was nothing to see before him - light couldn't penetrate this deep. Jack was left cold and alone, his mind alert to every detail while his body continued its horrific cycle, end and return. It was a constant struggle in him, the flesh knew it could die, but this _gift_ Rose had given him, continued to make him live. And so it would go on, Jack left in '_perfect_' stasis forced to watch and wait for an unlikely rescue.

The moments dragged on, and Jack feared for how long he might actually be able to hang on. Death might not have been able to claim him, but if his mind finally broke would there be much of a difference?

He tried to recall how he'd ended up in this watery tomb, but the memories were fleeting at best. Jack could still clearly remember the first time; he'd been on the run and took a chance crossing a shoddy looking bridge. It had been unable to handle the weight of the vehicle, breaking beneath them. The last thing Jack had remembered was the air sailing past his ears before death had taken him. To this day he wasn't sure how long he'd been in that watery grave, before his eyes opened to his suspended animation. It was a death he'd sworn never to repeat, but fate had other ideas in mind.

How was it that he could continue like this? Should he not have just remained dead? Jack didn't have the answers. No one did, his immortality was a mystery, it was wrong. _He _was wrong, so the Doctor had put it. Perhaps this was for the best, perhaps the loss of his mind was in fact the only way Jack could truly die.

It tore at him to think of the people he was leaving behind, but as time wore on he'd watch them all die as he remained constant. That fixed point in time and space, which seemed to make the Doctor's skin crawl just to be near it. Nothing was meant to last forever.

Jack shut his eyes against the blackness and gave himself over to the current shifting his body. He was held fast by something but couldn't remember or figure out what it was. It didn't matter though; in the haze of it all Jack felt his actions had done some form of good. Perhaps this fate had been meant for another. Though if that were the case and he had stepped in Jack couldn't believe why; perhaps death by drowning hadn't been on the menu.

He rarely slept and for good reason, his nights were usually plagued by nightmares. Jack had seen so much of the world, horrors unimaginable. But a death by drowning, this lasting waking death, was the worst of it all. Worse still was waking from the nightmares in a cold sweat, leaving him believing for just that second longer that he was trapped again.

Through closed lids Jack thought he saw a faint light. It amused him - could he in fact find himself an end? Could walk into that bright light and know peace?

A welcoming touch followed, hands trailing down his body. Jack knew it had to be his imagination; still he kept his eyes closed. It was something beyond the cold waters. It either a sign that he'd lost his mind or was now accustomed to his predicament, though he was pretty sure it was the same thing.

The hands were gone, but Jack somehow didn't feel alone. Frozen to his very marrow Jack thought he felt body heat shift through the water. Suddenly his legs were being jerked, those hands returning again taking him under the shoulders. This caused Jack to open his eyes, only to see a darkened face next to his looking towards the surface. As the light grew stronger Jack could see more of his rescuer, though it was a face he didn't recognize.

Breaking the surface Jack's body convulsed, lungs coughing up water as he struggled to keep his head up. The man who had been holding him shouted in surprise. His senses were overwhelmed as his lungs struggled to free themselves. But Jack couldn't bring himself to believe, was this real, he had been so close to that edge, just barely hanging onto what little sanity he had left.

A surge of warmth infused Jack, causing him to start in surprise before the cold waters came rushing back. It took time for his muddled brain to realize these pockets of warmth were hands holding him, pulling him back from the brink.

"_Jack!_"

_Gwen?_ Jack thought, more than a little confused.

"_Jack!_" the voice said again, sounding relieved. "_Open your eyes Jack,_" Gwen pleaded.

He wanted to comply to open his eyes and see her smiling face, but could he stand to see the blackness surrounding him again instead? Sure he would have been crying had he been able to shed tears, Jack forced his eyes to open. For a moment all he could see was the blackness, causing him to sob brokenly.

"Jack, it's alright I've got you!" Gwen's voice continued to assure.

Blinking away the wetness Jack watched in awe as the black curtain began to fade, and his eyes could pick out the blurred outline of Gwen's pretty face. He coughed still lungs sounding wet though no more water was coming up.. Jack's chest ached as he drew in several ragged breaths, for a long time unable to do anything but hang onto Gwen's sodden clothes.

"You're alright," she whispered into his ear, arms tightening their hold on him, "I won't let you go."

Jack drew in a shaking breath, "What happened?" he finally managed to ask. His eyes could see, but all he could make out from over Gwen's shoulder was a dreary rain soaked city. The sun had long ago set, leaving them bathed in the faded light of a street lamp. The sound of water rushing past made him shudder and try to pull away.

There was commotion in the distance, and he tired to see but Gwen stopped him a warm hand pressed gently to the side of his face. "I doesn't matter," she muttered continuing to look him in the eyes. "We didn't leave you down there Jack," Gwen continued, her expression earnest. "We came for you," she assured, pulling him back to her.

"I know," he whispered, holding her tightly.

It was just so hard to forget a waking death.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


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